The Funeral: The Middle And End

Jon Oliva's Pain—Festival

MoTW—Dead Snow

As we pulled away from the church, I got smart and turned on the
headlights so we would fit in with the rest of the vehicles in the
joyous caravan of death.

Of course this meant that I could rule the road and break every rule
possible. Sadly, that only entailed going through a few red lights and
stops signs plus speeding a bit here and there. No illegal u-turns were
needed which was a bit of a bummer, but what could I do? I mean this day
wasn't about me.

When we got to the burial ground, the only parking spot I could find was
in a huge patch of mud. This didn't bug me since I was dressed as
someone who looked like they liked playing in dirt, but the rest of the
passengers bitched and moaned about soiling their pumps and shiny shoes
so I had to pull up a bit, smashing into a gravestone just so folks
wouldn't get a bit dirty. What a bunch of selfish pricks.

You would think that the burial ground place would be a place of quiet
morning, everyone lost in their thoughts, praying or thinking of who
they were going to fuck that night, but no. Not here.

For there was Aglene and Maggie having another go at it. Screaming at
each other, saying really bad and hurtful things. Or not. Not that I
really listened or cared, but there was yelling and folks were looking
at them like they were weird or something while I just thought it was
the total shit.

Eventually peace was made and we headed to the tent and hole in the
ground where the cemetery folks would eventually toss the body into and
everyone was quiet and sad. It was very peaceful and I kept a safe
distance in case there was some gunplay since this was Jersey.

Oh, but it was tense. Don't think this was a normal funeral…..

The priest/medicine man/pope or whatever he was started doing his thing
and there was some movement in the crowd and then there was shouting,
something about a blonde bitch and something about dick warts (which
could have been me since I wanted to join in) then there was some
pushing and shoving and someone mentioned that yes, this was a FUCKING

And someone called the cops. Or I heard that someone did.

The church guy was finished with his thing and then a neighbor of Aglene
and the carcass was reading his little homage thingy to the lifeless
body and another fight starts and, sure as shit, I saw a couple cop cars
rolling down the hill.

They sat in their cars and then another fight broke out and they hopped
out of their cars and ran up to the party and start laying into folks
left and right, the young and old, anyone their nightsticks could lay

I was ecstatic and trying my best to direct the cops on who to hit next,
but they must have thought I was the ringleader because they turned
their attention to me and, as they came at me with their bloody
nightsticks, I pointed at my apparel and said, "Cemetery worker." They
understood and resumed whacking the well-dressed.

But seriously, all they did was come up to the party and pull someone
away and made them promise to behave, then they went back to their cars
and sat there, hoping something else would happen so they could have
some cop justice, JERSEY STYLE.

Sadly, the neighbor finished reading the eulogy and folks waved at the
casket, my sister's oldest son (the cross-dresser) threw himself on the
coffin, sobbing uncontrollably (that's what ten bucks from me can get
you nowadays) and everyone went on their merry way.

(SIDENOTE: The guy who read the eulogy us my sister's ex-husband. She's
slutty like that. He wears a kilt sometimes and plays really loud Irish
music late at night. He's weird.)

(SIDENOTE 2: One of the cast of characters under the tent was my mother,
who had a cast on her foot. She almost fell into the grave when the
pushing and shoving was going on. Imagine the hilarity if she actually

When everyone except our group had left, Aglene told my sister to hold
on and went back to the gravesite, bent down and said something to the
casket (remember, there was a dead body in there). I was so touched I
began to cry, then realized it was hunger that caused the tears since my
guests had last fed me six days previously. And, as you probably figured
out by now, this whole thing really is about me.

When asked what she said to the slowly rotting corpse it was either
"You're too cool for school!", "You can find excellent day workers at
any local Lowe's" or "I hope you rot in hell, motherfucker." I can't
remember which one it was though.

Then happy time was over and it was time for us to leave since the
cemetery was closing early so they could set up the booths for their
annual WInter Pageant. Games, food and bodies, both living and dead.
What fun!

As I was chauffeuring us back home, my sister's oldest sone kept asking
what was going on and she kept telling him that she would tell him at a
later time.

This didn't sit too well with him so he kept asking.

And asking.

And asking.

Finally, she gave up, turned around in her seat and screamed, "HE WAS

And the car went silent.

And I laughed (silently, of course).

COMING NEXT: I have no more ideas

Stephen Johnson

The idea of building a website with Bob came from Stephen in the days of message boards and chat rooms. We settled on the name and the rest is history. Retired since he hit the ripe age of 25, he spends most his time doing odd-jobs around the house and digging thru trash bins for "stuff that's still good." Stephen has contributed several short stories and hosted the "Lunatic Ravings" column since the beginning (1999). The idea of writing weekly columns came from Stephen before blogs or blog sites ever existed. So, I guess that makes him THE FIRST BLOGGER IN THE WORLD!!!

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